Palmer: Fashion Week Ch. 10

Chapter 10 — SUNDAY — Blood on the tracks

It was early morning when Roxanne finally made it back to their suite. She had needed to expunge all of the negative thoughts in her mind before returning—about the photographs she'd seen of Jack with Jade, of Nikky Volkov's visit to see her and the offer he'd made.

She'd blanked her thoughts out in the way she knew best. Her sex with Dawn had left her feeling vibrant again.

She didn't consider last night as cheating on Jack. Another woman wasn't cheating. Nor did she consider that Jack had cheated with Jade. Despite the photographs of the African model sucking her boyfriend's cock, she knew that there would be a good explanation.

Jack just wasn't that sort of guy. He never had been and never would be. They'd talk about it soon and she'd understand everything then. But there wasn't any need to have that conversation yet. First, she needed the loving intimacy that sex with her boyfriend always brought.

Jack's phone was on the sofa in the sitting area, flashing with missed messages and incoming texts—no doubt all from her. That was a good sign. He was there. But was he alone? She hurried to the bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief. Had she really expected anything else?

Resting her weary frame against the wall behind her, she took a few moments to watch him sleep. His face was pressed against the pillow he'd tucked under one arm. He always did that when she wasn't with him. It showed he was missing her. His dark crinkled hair was tussled in eighteen different directions. That made her smile. He was one of the toughest men she knew, ready to face anything, and yet he was one of the most caring, too. It was a rare combination.

Silently, she pushed her body away from the wall and glided into the room. It took her only a few seconds to undress, leaving her clothes in a pool on the floor before crawling up onto the bed beside him.

He gave a start when she slipped beneath the thin white sheet covering his naked body. The way he tried to push her away, protect himself, was as if he'd been having a nightmare.

"Hey," she softly reassured, taking hold of his wrists and pinning his flailing arms down against the mattress. "It's me."

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds, blinking a couple of times, and then a soft smile creased his lips when he recognised her. He looked disorientated, so vulnerable, and when his mouth opened as if to say something, no words immediately came out.

"It's okay," she reassured him, leaning down to softly kiss him. "It's me, Jack. Shhh..."

His lips felt warm against hers as the kiss deepened, and then her tongue was filling his mouth. They needed to talk about what had happened—they both had stories to tell—but the needs of her body were intense right now. This was her boyfriend. She loved him. And she wanted, needed, to show him exactly how much.

"We'll talk, Jack," she whispered, stroking his damp brow with one hand and reaching for his growing erection with her other. "But first, make love to me."

She held his hardness in her palm as she slithered her curvy body downwards, loving the warmth his body generated. By the time her mouth found him he was fully erect and ready for her. Dipping her head forward, she swallowed him whole. This was her cock, not Jade's. It belonged in her mouth, in her cunt.

Roxie took him as far as she could into her throat, her wet tongue massaging his shaft all the way. His groans were reassuring and she went through her full repertoire, as if every second of her vast number of experiences were preparing her for this moment. Eventually, when it was clear it was becoming too much for him and that he was finding it difficult to hold back, she pulled her wet mouth away.

She wanted much more than a blowjob...

"This thing is for me?" she sighed happily, twisting around on the bed so that she could crawl back up his body.

When she dipped low, allowing his saliva-bathed cock to scrape between her breasts, she was rewarded with another groan.

Her hand found the throbbing hardness again, holding him in position as she settled her tanned thighs over his. Dammit, he looked so hot, staring up at her like that, his mouth half-open in anticipation. Her own lips parted as she sank down on him, a soft gasp escaping them at the sensation of his hardness sinking into her clutching pussy.

It felt incredible. So fucking incredible ...

"Oh, Jack, you feel so good," she murmured, resting her hands on his broad chest as she tightened her internal grip on his wonderfully thick girth. "Tell me you love me."

Palmer did. Instantly. He told her once, twice, three times, until she had no reason to doubt it anymore. But then, she never really had doubted it. Had she? Not when she followed her instincts. She dipped her head again to reward him with another soul-searing kiss.

"I love you, too, Jack," she murmured against his lips. "So much."

Throwing her red hair back, she stretched her arms out before her and ran her fingernails along his chest. Her large breasts began to swing tantalizingly between them as she straightened up to her full height and started to undulate on him.

"Oh fuck!" Palmer whined.

"Exactly," Roxie gasped.

She went slowly to begin with, allowing them both to savour the intimacy that a loving coupling like this brought. Then she began to pick up the pace. Gradually at first, then faster. His hands found her hips, gripping them tightly as she pulled upwards until she was almost clear of him and then sank back down again. She gasped and he grunted with each downward thrust. And then they were full gallop, their bodies covered in sheens of perspiration.

Neither of them was going to last. But that was okay...

The bed bounced and squeaked underneath them as the walls of her cunt caressed and squeezed him, telling her man he belonged inside her. She was a sexual Goddess, loving him in the way only she could.

"This cock is mine," she throatily growled, thinking of the photographs of her boyfriend and Jade. "All mine. Understand?"

His thick girth surged at her words. It felt wonderful inside her. It was where it belonged. It was hers...

Then she was fucking him again, a sexual dervish, even harder and faster this time. Nothing else mattered in the moment, only the way his body was responding to hers and the way he was finding it impossible to contain the orgasm that was bubbling inside him.

"Ready?" she urgently whispered, when she sensed his balls tighten.

He turned his head fractionally to meet her burning gaze. His hands slipped to her asscheeks and his voice was strained.

"Yeah."

"Me too."

Sweeping her red hair over her right shoulder, she drove her hips down one final time. The movement was enough to take her boyfriend and soul mate over the edge. The initial warm spurt of musky fluid inside her quickly turned into a deluge and Roxie savoured the intensity of each torrential burst before her own climax let loose.

Everything in the world was suddenly all right again.

*

Michelle Park was flying high. Really high. She had Nikolay Volkov's cock filling her and was on her third orgasm, but the moment felt akin to a black widow spider about to eat the male after copulation.

She had telephoned the Russian early morning—very early—after she'd had time to think everything through.

Her sex with Jenn Finney yesterday had been as hot as any in her life. The brunette had been a quick learner and her enthusiasm was mind blowing. Seducing any woman for the first time was always extremely satisfying, but the way the beautiful young brunette had willingly thrown herself into the session had been truly beautiful.

Not that it would save her. Volkov wanted her discredited and she'd carried out his instructions to the letter. It was unfortunate for the girl, but the only person Michelle was concerned about was herself.

She'd called Volkov to explain that the content from the close circuit cameras would be provided to him tomorrow. And of course, delivering the evidence would convince the Russian she was on his side. That way, he wouldn't think of her when he found out that the London Metropolitan police had full and comprehensive details of all his illegal activities. He'd be arrested the next time he set foot in Europe and the information she'd provided would see him locked up for a long time.

He'd been his usual arrogant self when she'd spoken to him, but had happily agreed to her suggestion that she visit him in his room.

That was the pièce de résistance. Fucking him one last time when she was the person responsible for sending him to prison would be incredibly satisfying. And it had been. She was on her back now, her legs pinched up over his shoulders as he drilled into her pussy.

His heavy balls slapped harder against the Asian model's tender sex, forcing a heavy grunt from his lips with each thrust. Sucking him off first had meant he'd been able to last so much longer, take her so much harder. She ran her fingers through his tussled blonde hair in encouragement. He was nearly there. She could tell. Could see it in his sparkling blue eyes.

It always came down to this. The richest and most powerful men in the world thought that they were in control; that people danced to their tune. But they were wrong. In moments like this, the woman was the one who had the control. And Michelle was about to prove that.

"Keep fucking me," she told him, driving home her superiority.

He tried to pummel her harder, to teach her a lesson. But when she squeezed him tighter with her pussy walls, he had to grit his teeth. He was just like all the others. No man had ever been able to resist her.

"Fuck my hot pussy. More..."

His face tightened into a cringe as he tried to retake control, but another grunt escaped his lips when she crossed her ankles behind his head. She yanked him closer, letting the weight of his body compress her even more. The action drove his cock even deeper into her wet cunt,

"Harder," she told him. "Fuck me harder..."

But when she squeezed her pussy muscles one final time, his cock went off like a depth charge. Sex had never felt so satisfying.

*

"I fucked up."

They were still in bed, resting after their exhaustive lovemaking. Jack Palmer was sitting up, with his back against the headboard, while Roxanne's body pressed into his as she lay backwards against him.

"Jade appeared from nowhere after I returned from following Nikky Volkov," he slowly continued, the weight of his confession almost too heavy to cope with. "She drugged me, Roxie, mixed Chemical grade Ecstasy into my drink. I couldn't think straight, not then, or when Volkov's men cornered me in the alley..."

"What?" the redhead gasped suddenly, swinging her head around so that she could look into his eyes.

"Jade drugged me," he repeated, meeting her startled gaze. "Then she took me back to our suite—"

"Not that," she interrupted, giving an exasperated sigh.

She was ahead of him as far as Jade was concerned. She'd fucked on Ecstasy many times in her previous life and knew from personal experience that Jack would have had no chance of resisting the African model after being drugged. If she ever saw the devious bitch again, she would tear her hair out. Nikky Volkov had set them up with the sole intention of driving a wedge between her and Jack.

But what was this about Jack following the Russian? And about Volkov setting some of his men on him?

"Tell me," she urged, swinging her body around on the bed and wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's shoulders. She hugged him close. "What happened, Jack? Tell me everything."

She listened to him without interruption, assimilating every piece of information he fed her until he had finished his explanation. When he eventually finished, she reached out to touch his sweat slick chest. His muscles sizzled beneath the surface, hot and hard.

"You didn't fuck up, Jack," she softly told him. "You were put in an impossible situation and it just proves everything you've thought about Nikky. You've been right all along."

If only she'd listened. It was becoming clearer and clearer to her just how dangerous Nikky Volkov was. He'd do anything to get what he wanted. Just ask Tony Yamamura!

"Thank goodness you managed to overcome those three thugs," she croaked, her voice full of emotion. "You've kept telling me we should leave Dubai, Jack. Let's do that today. All of us, you, me and Jenn. Leave Volkov to his games..."

She trailed off as she stared into his eyes. She'd seen that determined look before. Oh fuck, he was going after Volkov.

"Don't even think about it, Jack," she hurriedly told him, brushing her fingers through his hair. "There's no need to stay here any longer. Your girlfriend has a new career waiting for her..."

She quickly garbled out her Supermodel experience, how successful it had been, and how they wanted her to co-host the next series with Alicia Stiles. She wanted—needed—him to understand that they could make a new start. She was to blame for the way things had turned out with Dominic DeVere and she didn't want the same burden with Volkov. She couldn't put Jack in that position again.

"So you see, there's no need to go after Nikky Volkov, Jack," she despairingly continued, hoping to see his expression soften.

It didn't. He was delighted for her, she could see that, and she'd known that he would be. He always put her first above anything else. But once his mind was made up, she'd never known him to change it.

"That's great news, Roxie," he told her, kissing her forehead. "And it's the least you deserve. But don't you understand? Volkov has tried to compromise you, he's done the same with Jenn, and now it's my turn. He'll try again if someone doesn't stop him. Can't you see that?"

The redhead felt her tears begin to well up and she sniffed to hold them back.

"I know," she answered, her voice wavering a little.

"I know you do," he answered, pulling her into another hug. "All I want you to do is trust me. Can you do that?"

"Of course," she meekly said, against his chest.

She'd trust him with her life. And yet, her heart sank as he gently let her go and pushed up from the bed. There was so much more to tell him—about last night with Dawn, about being coerced into sucking the Volkov's cock after her first catwalk appearance. Had that really been a week ago? She wished that she'd never set eyes on the manipulative bastard. But now wasn't the time for further confessions. They'd have to wait. Jack needed a clear head when he confronted the Russian.

Roxanne had a dreadful feeling that there wasn't going to be a happy ending for one of them.

*

The air was hot and humid, the sky a deep shade of blue. And yet the bank of unexpected clouds near the horizon that combined with the freshening wind suggested that a storm was brewing.

Vladimir Kazakov didn't care about the weather outside. He stood just off the main lobby inside the imposing New City Convention Centre, observing everything that went on around him. The magnificently crafted building was full of glass, steel and imposing ceilings and yet the Ukrainian didn't recognise a single aspect of that beauty.

Such things were unimportant to him. Besides, his mind was completely fixed on the challenge ahead.

Remaining inconspicuous hadn't proven as difficult as he'd expected, not when most of the attention was firmly on the dozens of beautiful models—and their entourages—as they flowed in and out. He hated that sort of decadence, even though it served him well in this case. People like Nikky Volkov used such things to build up their empires.

But, today was the day the Russian was going to get his comeuppance.

Kazakov had arrived at the Centre a couple of hours ago and he'd spent his time since then reconnoitring the entire building. Nothing was left to chance. His photographic memory had taken pictures from every angle and filed them away in the back of his mind. He'd checked out where the security guards were positioned, what their habits were and, most importantly, the best escape route. He was fully prepared.

An unusual calmness had descended on him, despite the two pills he'd taken. The extra tablet would ensure his senses were raised to the level he needed. And as always, the effect was to leave him feeling like a fucking God. One who had right on his side! One who was invincible!

By the time he caught his late afternoon flight back to the Ukraine; Nikolay Volkov would just be a distant memory.

The deadline had passed yesterday, showing that the bastard Russian never had any intention of paying Kazakov the money he was owed. That was bad enough, but then the assassin had discovered that Volkov had put a contract out on him. On him! It was the second time he had tried to have the Ukrainian killed. A dozen men had been unleashed, with the single intention of taking him out.

They would have caught him, too, had they been up to the task. That was the problem with employing locals. However good they might be, they were never a match for a professional like him.

He'd been in a quiet bar last night, pondering on whether to cut his losses and return to the Ukraine, when a slim Asian woman in a tight, low-cut dress slid onto the barstool next to him. She'd rested a hand on his thigh as she'd begun to chat.

"Where are you from? How long are you here? Where are you staying?"

He hated fucking Asians and had almost swatted her away. But when her hand had found his crotch, casually rubbing his rapidly lengthening cock through his trousers as she spoke, he'd thought, why not? He had time on his hands, after all. When he'd patronizingly asked her what she did for a living, she'd laughed as if she'd enjoyed the quip.

"You know what I do," she'd replied, tugging down the zip of his trousers with well practiced ease. "I'm a whore."

Unusually, she'd taken him to the alley at the back of the bar rather than back to his hotel. He hadn't thought too much about it at the time, not when his cock was straining inside his trousers.

He'd fucked her there, against the stone wall—her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers clawing at his scalp and her teeth biting down on his earlobe. The intensity of the fuck was such that he'd almost missed the swarthy Asian creeping up behind them.

A sudden out-of-place sound had alerted him and then he'd caught a glimpse of the man out of the corner of his eye. Acting on instinct, he'd swung the prostitute around so that he could face his attacker. Just in time. The switchblade knife had plunged into her back, not his.

He'd dropped the woman like a stone at his feet, ignoring her pitiful cries as the fall onto the cobbled ground drove the knife deeper into her wound. The man had been coming at him again and—with his trousers around his ankles and his erect cock still thrusting from his groin—he'd been at a major disadvantage.

The guy had taken instant advantage, hooking his ankle around the Ukrainian's and shoving him hard. But Kazakov was too wily to succumb to such a basic move. He'd grabbed hold of the bastard as he'd gone down, raising both legs as his back hit the cobbles and sending the man flying head over heels with a powerful two-footed kick to the head.

Scrambling to his feet, his erection rapidly fading, two more kicks into his assailant's face had quickly rendered the man semi-conscious.

It hadn't taken long to get the Asian bastard to talk, not once he'd broken both of his arms. And what he'd heard had enraged him. Volkov had struck a deal with someone, a Sheikh, who had arranged for a dozen armed men to be sent after the Ukrainian.

That knowledge added a completely new dimension to his situation.

Kazakov had snapped the man's neck before hiding his body, and the woman's, under some rubble in a nearby skip. Then he'd begun to make his plans. As far as he was concerned, it was kill or be killed...